


this love looks good on you

by theviolonist



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theviolonist/pseuds/theviolonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that he <i>likes</i> wearing them, but he can't very well go wandering about in boxers, can he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	this love looks good on you

"' _Love is equal_ ', though, Haz? Are you  _trying_  to out us?"  
  
Harry laughs, deep-throated and rich, and turns to where Louis just entered the room. His breath catches a little in his throat when he sees that Louis is actually  _wearing_  the T-shirt, sagging a little bit at the front because he's not as big or as tall as Harry is. His smile widens.  
  
" _Hello_ , darling," he drawls.  
  
Louis raises an eyebrow.  
  
"I hope you're not trying to be charming," he says, letting his sassy gay friend side surface, "because if you are, let me give you a hint: it's not working."  
  
Harry just laughs.  
  
He must be doing something right, though, because before noon Louis lets him press him against the counter and fuck him into the sunlight, their joined hands fisted into the front of the T-shirt.  
  
Afterwards, when they lay tangled and sweaty on the floor, Louis throws him an amused glance.  
  
"So you have a thing for me wearing your clothes? Hazza, this is so macho."  
  
Harry does something that was supposed to be a shrug but doesn't quite work out this way given his position. Louis glances down at the T-shirt and frowns.  
  
"This one is ruined, though. Your kink is costing us, honeybuns."  
  
Harry beams at him and whispers, "I don't mind," before tugging him down into a kiss.  
  
It's a perfect day; the sun bounces on the tiles and draws a map all around them, like an island where they would be kings.  
  
*  
  
It happens again.  
  
It's really not surprising: they share clothes all the time around the band, so much that the fans have taken to nicknaming the ones that come up the most. It's not even something that's strictly between Harry and Louis (as so many things are, the little touches and the whispers).  
  
So the fact that the second thought that crosses Harry's mind when he sees Louis stumble in the kitchen, lost in Harry's white knit sweater that looks giant on his thin frame (the first one being,  _I want to bend you over this table and fuck you into tomorrow_ ) is 'the gay boyfriends sweater' is really not his fault.  
  
"Huh," he says.  
  
His confusion seems to amuse Louis (but then, pretty much everything amuses Louis).  
  
"So much eloquence so early in the morning, Hazza," he says, pretend-swooning, a hand against his forehead like a ridiculous Victorian heroine, "I'm overwhelmed."  
  
Harry really wishes he'd said something sassy and witty at this point, but all he can do is stutter another "Huh" as the sweater slides a bit across Louis's shoulder, revealing a strip of white collarbone. Harry's mouth waters. He swallows.  
  
Louis raises his eyebrows, a smile curling at the edge of his mouth. "Really, Haz?" he asks, his smile turning seductive as he steps towards Harry, breakfast forgotten. "Again?"  
  
"What can I do," Harry breathes out as Louis straddles his hips. "You're hot."  
  
Louis laughs. He hitches the sweater's sleeves up his arms, probably just for the sake of torturing Harry. "Shut up and kiss me," he laughs.  
  
Harry obeys gladly.  
  
(Niall curses loudly when he steps into the kitchen about ten minutes after, and after having shouted that "You could do that in private, for fuck's sake!", proceeds to run around the flat yelling that he's scarred for life and that he'll never look at this sweater the same way. Harry and Louis just laugh.)  
  
*  
  
It's not that is really becomes a common occurrence, just... it kind of does. It's not like Louis wears Harry's clothes  _all the time_ , because he isn't Harry's  _girlfriend_ , for fuck's sake, and he still likes his braces and his stripes. It's just that sometimes, well, Harry's clothes are strewn haphazardly on the floor where they shed them the night before, and all of Louis's clothes are in the wash because Liam decided that it was time that they did their monthly laundry ("It's not because we're on temporary vacation that we can behave like pigs," he said. Niall retorted that they behaved like pigs even when they were working, maybe even more. Liam tutted. Harry and Louis just stared at them blankly.) and he doesn't have anything to wear.  
  
It's not like he  _wants_  to wear them, but he can't very well go wandering about in boxers, can he? Not that the fans would be unhappy about it, it's more like Louis is kind of concerned about his safety. And Harry wouldn't let him walk two steps – he's kind of possessive. (Louis doesn't like it. It's just... it's just nice, sometimes, to know that someone wants for you all for them, okay?).  
  
And Harry gets all the good clothes because he's pretty and sometimes he'll get something that Louis wanted, like these red trousers that are at least two sizes too big. He has to roll them up at the bottom because they're too long for him – damn Harry's giant legs.  
  
It's not entirely unpleasant to have Harry's hungry gaze following him all day either, never faltering. Louis crosses his legs during one of the interviews they have this day when Harry's talking, and Harry trails off – his eyes go so dark that Louis is kind of worried that he'll stand up and drag him into the nearest bathroom. They look at each other for a handful of seconds before the interviewer asks the question again. Harry answers, his eyes still trained on Louis. Louis shivers.  
  
They get the piss taken out of them by the boys and management because of that, but it's not like they were ever subtle anyway, and Harry brushes the boys off and presses a proprietary palm in the small of Louis's back as they head towards a new radio station.  
  
It's a perfect day – and it gets even more perfect at night, when Harry slowly peals the trousers out of him and presses butterfly kisses against the skin of Louis's thighs, making him shiver, looks up and says: "You're beautiful," sounding out of breath.  
  
So maybe Louis wears Harry's clothes a lot these days – at least it's not a varsity jacket, he thinks when he despairs the loss of his manhood. And it's kind of worth-it for the way that Harry's face lights up when he sees him, for the dark imprints of his thumbs in the malleable skin of Louis's hips, for the raucous jokes of their bandmates and this quiet happiness.  
  
It's one of these things that just happen.  
  
*  
  
Harry's T-shirt are really comfortable. It's not the fact that they're Harry's, or that they smell like him (how creepy would that be, anyway?) - it's just that they're soft, and Louis's aren't because for some reason management decided that everything he wears has to be ultra-tight.  
  
Harry has big, loose T-shirts that feel like an ocean around Louis's chest. They let him breathe and his heart can beat as hard as it wants without having to worry about breaking the shell. The  _Ramones_  one is faded and worn, and it's the most fucking comfortable thing that Louis's ever worn.  
  
(Okay, so maybe Louis has a special relationship with Harry's T-shirts. There was this time at the beginning of them when Harry tore the collar of one of Louis's T-shirts and tied it with his bracelets around his slender wrist. He beamed and said, "It'll be our friendship bracelet." It's the first time Louis kissed him with more than friendship on his lips.)  
  
A fan catches him wearing it – it's not unusual, they really do share clothes all the time – but instead of screeching she just looks at him and smiles, warm and a little amused. She's older than him, probably twenty-five or something like that – her smile says,  _you're a fool in love_  like being a fool in love is the best thing you can be. He salutes her with two fingers to his temple on a whim, like he does, and everyone is screaming but he can see that she gets it's for her.  
  
When they come back from the signing and Harry fists the T-shirt and kisses him before dropping his head lower and whispering in the cloth, Louis feels happiness swell into his chest. He tries to hold the feeling a little longer, but then Harry's mouth closes around his cock, his long fingers pushing tightening around his hips, and he loses any coherent train of thought.  
  
*  
  
Once Louis spends a day wearing nothing but Harry's clothes, down to the boxers. They're all so big he feels like he's floating, and their publicist is going to have a fit, but it's funny – the other guys pick on it pretty quickly and proceed to mock Harry mercilessly, especially when they realize that they have to leave for the day and that he doesn't have time to make Louis change, and Harry whispers something that sounds like "such a tease", looking half-frustrated and half-impressed. Louis presses a quick kiss to his lips.  
  
"Love you, sweetums," he says, out of habit.  
  
Niall's eyes go mushy and disgusting and he almost lets a 'aw' out. Louis sends him a glare to signify that if he indeed does it, no amount of begging will persuade Louis to stop mocking him.  
  
"Niall is altogether too invested in this relationship," he whines into Harry's neck.  
  
Harry laughs, thick and golden like honey. His hands are running on Louis's back almost absently.  
  
"You're really into me wearing your clothes, are you?" Louis teases.  
  
Harry shrugs. He isn't embarrassed – when is Harry ever embarrassed – but he's smiling against Louis's cheek, and his smile turns into a smirk as he answers, "I'm into getting you out of them, darling," and squeezes Louis's bum for the effect.  
  
Louis snorts. "You're on a whole new level of charming, Styles."  
  
Harry's about to answer but Liam makes a not-so-subtle gagging sound and Zayn raises a judgmental eyebrow (between the two of them, they're rapidly becoming the Eyebrow Brigade).  
  
"Okay, okay," Harry surrenders as he detaches himself from Louis, hands held up. Louis, being Louis, makes grabby hands at him and it all ends up with a massive pillow fight and management telling them off for being ten minutes late at the interview.  
  
Louis wriggles in Harry's lap during the interview, making Harry muffle a moan in his shoulder and have to will away the inappropriate boner. Louis looks smug for the rest of the day.  
  
*  
  
(And then there's this – it's too private to tell – there's the moment where Harry touches Louis with reverent hands – you know this moment where he looks up at him with green eyes like skies or grass and he looks breathtaken.  
  
It's this moment, at night, that feels like it's just for them, when Harry slides his fingers around Louis's ankle, circling it easily, and unrolls the trousers, spreads the rough cloth on Louis's skin, smoothing it with gentle fingers. When he slips his hands in Louis's hair, under the beanie, and Louis tips his head back. When he says, "I love you" between the stitches of his lose-knit orange sweater.  
  
This moment when Louis is finally naked, and they just breathe, face to face, a hair's breadth away. When Harry pulls him in, pulls him in like he always does, always has, never stopped – when he pulls him down and kisses him with his mouth full of promises that say  _never let go_.  
  
It's too private to tell, and the feeling is so much better – this pregnant love that seeps into their skin, easy and aching, hot like Harry's palms on Louis's stomach, trailing lower. It's everything that makes them who they are, who they are together, Harry's pianist fingers tapping toccatas on the sharp jut of Louis's hip, his clothes strewn on the floor, enough to dress two lovers, Louis's eyes, cold blue like a frozen sea.  
  
 _You're beautiful_ , they say to each other, again and again – but what they mean is,  _we're beautiful_ , because they are what they made of themselves, together.)  
  
*  
  
It's one day on the winter. They're all sleepy and grumpy, and they have a concert tonight but there's nothing they want to do less, and they're in Sweden and it's away from home and cold and everything sucks. Niall is passed out in the car, Zayn is smoking outside and no one dared joining him because he looked like he was ready to kill anyone who asked him the time, and Liam is that bit sterner that makes him forty instead of eighteen. It's not their best day. Louis is drooling on Harry's shoulder and Harry is staring gloomily at his phone like it will magically solve all his popstar problems when Paul comes into the room.  
  
"Alright boys, let's get going," he says with a small, apologetic smile.  
  
They all grunt but obediently get up. Zayn risks a glance by the window and only gets gloomier at the sight of the hundreds of fans shrieking at the entrance of the hotel.  
  
The hallway is already cold, and Louis is shivering despite his big coat (probably Harry's) and his purple earmuffs (definitely Harry's). Harry throws a glance Paul's way – he isn't looking – and halts Louis with a hand on his arm, digging frantically in his bag with the other.  
  
"Come here," he says, curling his fingers at Louis's nape. Louis's eyes briefly flutter closed. He looks appeased.  
  
"Close your eyes," he orders, and Louis laughs but complies anyway.  
  
Harry spots Liam watching them, his eyes cautious but not looking like he's going to interrupt them. Harry thanks him with a discreet two-fingered salute. He won't do anything stupid.  
  
He draws the pink beanie out of his bag and stuffs it on Louis's head, fingers playing with the pompom.  
  
"Here," he says, and maybe his voice is a little hoarse but who cares, who cares that he loves this boy so much.  
  
Louis opens his eyes and smiles. If they could kiss here, right now, they would, and they can't but it doesn't really matter, because they're eighteen and they're at the top of the world.  
  
So Harry takes Louis's hand and they step outside besides the other boys, and it isn't as cold, and the sky is just a little bit bluer.


End file.
